


Mending the Tears: Discovering The Uniter

by slytherinmayflower



Series: The Uniter of Auradon [1]
Category: Descendants (2015)
Genre: AU Specific Mythology, Betrayal, Child Abuse, Evie/Mal Version, F/F, Ghosts, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Just a whole lot of dead people, Like the barest amount possible, Magic, Mal-centric Fic, Minor Angst, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Original Character Death(s), Plot First - Romance Second, Sucky summaries are sucky, The Only Version!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-05-18 06:12:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5901373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slytherinmayflower/pseuds/slytherinmayflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was destined for greatness; for something no one could have foreseen given her parentage. But those born to evil do not become it by chance, only by choice.</p><p>But it would not be hers, for Destiny had other plans for the daughter of Maleficent.</p><p>Instead of chaos and destruction, Mal would be the bringer of peace and change.</p><p>The true Uniter of Auradon.</p><p>(THIS IS NOW THE ONLY VERSION OF THIS FIC.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: The Doubtful Stirring

**Author's Note:**

> This is, as I formerly called it, "The Mal/Evie version". It is now the only version of Mending the Tears; Discovering the Uniter, as I'm not interested in keeping an alternate version for a ship I don't particularly care for at present.

Mal looked up into the dreary skies outside her window, her mind racing and making everything around her appear slow-paced, like it was frozen in a single second. She felt the stirring of change deep in her gut, the coming of something new and powerful, although she couldn't tell what. Without magic, Mal's feelings for the future were never fully formed; they weren't quite the great premonitions that she felt lingering just out of reach in her dreams, or the mystical predictions her mother used to make seemingly without thought. They were just pangs in her torso, pulling at different parts of her being and promising the beginning of something, or the end.

 

 

The only true premonitions she'd had, she felt, were the ones of the boy and those of Evie. Evie, who she had always known would return from her castle-bound schooling to join the ranks of evil's most notorious children. Evie; who made the world seem more grey than black and white, more hopeful than the Lost could ever dream, more beautiful than Mal could ever imagine. Evie who was not as defined by her parentage as the rest of the Island; who had the freedom to dream and the will to hope. Evie, who made the world seem less evil and the tear in Mal's world seem easily breached. 

 

And then there was the boy. The boy that promised in her dreams that they were friends, that they would always be friends, no matter what decision she made or who she chose to be, though for the life of her; Mal could not understand what he was referring to.  The boy with crystalline blue eyes and a friendly smile that tore her down the middle; part of her desiring to return the sight and the other part desiring nothing more than to eclipse his smile with misery. 

 

She often felt that, were it not for her mortal blood, her _father's_ blood, the part of her desiring misery would be much larger, taking over her whole self, making her strong with the lust for evil. She would be perfect then. Without weakness. She would be the daughter her mother had always wanted; one worthy enough to continue her legacy, to bear her full name, instead of only part of it. Instead, she was split, torn between what she knew was right and good, and what was considered wrong and evil. The thing that she could not rid herself of and the thing she desperately wanted to be.

 

Thunder rattled the sky and lightning soon followed, sprinkling the night with flashes of light before the rain fell. Mal traced the droplets on her window pane with a lone finger, watching them trail down it; merging together with other droplets to become bigger until they finally reached the end and slipped away. Her mother cackled loudly downstairs but Mal payed her no attention, content to sit in silence as lightning replicated her in the sky, splitting it apart.

 

She wondered if her mother would notice if she left; if she raced out into the rain and just…left. If she never came back.

 

Would she care?

 

_Well, of course,_ she huffed at herself. Maleficent may be evil, but she _loves_ her. Villains – even the most cruel and heartless – love their children. They _care_ …just in their own way. This was the Isle of the Lost, after all, caring was not the same as it was in Auradon – nothing was.

 

"She loves me," Mal assured herself, still trailing after the dismal droplets.

 

There was a shuffle behind her and Mal glanced back, moving to pick up one of her trinkets that had slumped to the floor. The window blew open – not violently, but softly – and wind whipped past her, rain following it into her room.

 

_Does she really?_ the wind whispered, a voice so soft and smooth Mal could hardly stomach it. It lacked the serpentine quality of her mother's, and she knew it wasn't anyone she knew – it was late, and they wouldn't dare bother her. But then…

 

Mal shut the window, nodding to herself even as she felt the words collide with the doubt building in her chest.

 

Her mother loved her. Mal was her only child, her _legacy_ , of course her mother loved her.

 

_But…is it really_ you _she loves…or just that? What you represent – her legacy?_

 

Mal looked around her room, desperate to find the voice only for nothing to reveal itself. There was nothing there but her. But she wasn't saying anything… Perhaps…

 

Were these _her_ doubts? Her _fears_?

 

What was that word…the frighteningly funny one…

 

"Conscience…" Mal muttered softly, questioningly. Was the voice her conscience? Telling her right from wrong? But then… what was right in this scenario? What was wrong?

 

It's questioning of her once certain statements…did it mean to tell her she was wrong? Her mother didn't love her?

 

Mal shook away the thought, enraged that she would allow herself to even _consider_ the idea of her having a conscience. _Her!_ Daughter of the Mistress of Evil! What would she know of a _conscience_? Nothing, of course. She had never known one, had never known somebody who _had_ one and – she had never even known anybody who knew _somebody_ who had one. There was no way…

 

She was just being silly. Riled up with nerves over the coming change. It was powerful, and although she did not fear it as such, she worried of its outcome. There was nothing else. No conscience, no doubt, no fear…no split. She was evil – rotten to the core, and there was nothing that could change that.

 

Somewhat set in her convictions, Mal turned away from the window and dizzily put on her pyjamas, tossing her clothes on the floor and resolving to pick them up the next morning, if ever. Lying prone beneath the sheets, feeling the chill on her skin she settled to sleep counting the rumbles of thunder; her last thoughts being of the mischief she was sure to cause with her friends tomorrow.


	2. The Deadly Dreamer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mal has a chapter-long dream, she learns stuff, meets a cryptic Teacher, and sees the beginning of the future of Auradon...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait, I'm not feeling great at all anymore and some shit's happening, so this will probably end up being pretty normal. On the upside, the chapters will be long-ish...so there's that. BTW; the caps lock - used it just because it makes me read it in a super-cool-all-knowing-echoing-omniprescent-type voice. Maybe it's just me, but that's what it does...So here you go; Chapter 1

 

Mal turned slowly; her every footstep soft and deliberate; her every breath quiet and shallow. She could feel it following her, a harsh gaze watching her every move, drilling holes into her skin with its ferocity. She couldn’t see it, everything was too dark for that – but she could feel it. A presence as familiar as her friends’, creeping amongst the shadows. Stalking her like prey.

 

Darkness surrounded her, a single beam of light – a spotlight, zeroing in on her, lighting her up. The only thing missing was some hot sauce and a sign declaring her an open buffet.

 

The shadows slithered like snakes, creeping along the outside of the light, entering it and then quickly retreating; skin steaming and a depraved hissing noise arising from them at the way the light burned them. They did not waver, however, determined to pursue her, to consume her despite the damage caused on every attempt.

 

Mal felt fear race along every nerve, each time a snake just barely slithered within the circle of light encasing her, though it quickly dissipated each time they fled, black smoke steaming from their burnt bodies. The light seemed to burn only the darkness; though she found it curious how she was allowed to remain within it. She was, after all, the

 

Daughter of the Mistress of Hell. Surely, she was evil too, wasn’t she?

 

But the light was protecting her, she realized, keeping the darkness at bay; keeping her safe.

 

The snakes writhed, coalescing into swarms and growing – moulding and meshing together. She dared not move from the centre of the light, but she couldn’t help but wish for somewhere to run.

 

There was nothing outside the light; only darkness. She was trapped; her haven doubling as her cage, and leaving her to wait out the time until she would be consumed. She pressed her hand into the ground, hoping for something to happen; for a spark of magic to emerge, but nothing happened. Even if something had; Mal had no way of knowing how to use magic. From what her mother had told her, magic took time to learn, unless you were seriously powerful _(“like me Mal, but you know… nobody else is me. That’s kind of my point, darling.”)_ and even then, it was about learning control.

 

But here, she prayed for something and nothing happened.

 

She was hopeless.

 

The hissing of the snakes grew, drawing her attention to the writhing masses, the noise reverberating in her chest. They clambered over each other, still skirting around the light until one crept forward. It hissed, opening its mouth to reveal four flawlessly white teeth emerging from the shadows. Venom spat from its mouth and Mal ducked from the spray, feeling it burn through her clothes where it landed. Slowly, two blood red eyes blinked into existence before it lunged forward into the light.

 

The snake exploded, splattering Mal with black goo. She flinched, feeling the fear ever so slightly lift, only to come back full force when the next one jumped.

 

The death of the first seemed to act like a signal and suddenly they were all rushing forward, flinging themselves at her and exploding. Their continued deaths deterred nothing, the snakes swarming in a never ending stream until suddenly they weren’t _flinging_ themselves forward. Instead, they slithered calmly, menacingly towards her and Mal was struck with true terror. The black goo of every decimated shadows had splattered throughout the light, slowly overwhelming it until it was amassed by darkness. There was no stopping them now.

 

One slithered forward, faster than the rest, and Mal quivered in her spot. She had no magic, no power – there was nothing she could do to stop it – she was going to die.

 

It reared back, preparing to dart forward and sink fangs into her flesh when she noticed it; the growing rumble. It echoed in the depths of the darkness, rising to consume all sound – like a hundred drums beating altogether and yet all out of time. It  built and built until suddenly it echoed inside of her; overwhelming her senses. She clasped her hands to her ears and squeezed her eyes shut, begging to go somewhere else, to escape it all to somewhere safe.

 

The snake darted forward…

 

…And Mal’s entire world shifted.

 

The force of the drums blew through her, knocking her back and blowing the snake apart. She tumbled, sinking beneath the layers of shadows, the snakes’ hissing dissipating into the quiet hum of the wind. Sha landed heavily on her back, relief flooding through her as she opened her eyes and saw the familiar ruins, and the moon gleaming at her from the shimmering lake.

 

She was in Auradon. She was safe.

 

\---

 

Mal dipped her hand into the water, a serene feeling washing over her. This was the place from her dreams of the boy, and while she’d never been here without him, she almost preferred it. She hummed quietly, thoughtlessly, slowly dragging her hand back and forth through the water. There was no real reason for it, she supposed, or at least none that she knew – but the methodical motion soothed all the tension still clinging to her.

 

She tried to shrug off the notion that Auradon was becoming synonymous with safe, but it was a truth she wouldn’t deny herself. She felt safe in Auradon, or at least, _here_ by the ruins and the lake. It almost felt like this was where she was _meant_ to be. And without her mother here, there was no reason to lie to herself. She was at peace; safe, and the thought allowed her to slump tiredly against a pillow, falling into a quiet sleep.

 

When she stirred, some amount of time later, it was to the warmth of a presence encompassing her, and a light illuminating the ruins. She stood slowly, feeling only calm and peaceful, as if there was nothing that could harm her, that could ever affect her. It felt similar to her peculiar everyday numbness, and yet also innately different.

 

She looked beyond the ruins, into the swirling depths of the lake and felt herself nod in acknowledgement and respect to something she couldn’t clearly see.

 

“MALLORY,” a voice welcomed her, “CHILD OF THE FAE.”

 

It did not ask her, and did not add anything more, speaking as if merely stating facts.

 

Mal wondered if it was expecting her, if it even knew ‘Mallory’ wasn’t her real name, if it knew that her mother was vain enough to name her child after her, but disgusted enough to never give her a full name because of how unworthy she was.

 

She wondered if it would lash out at her simply for being who she was. She was in Auradon after all, and safe or not, nowhere could be so perfect without consequence. Everything has a price, a cost to suffer. She only wondered what it was she’s suffer this time.

 

“YOU WONDER IF I KNOW YOU, BUT I AM ONE OF FEW WHO EVER HAS. I TELL NO LIES, ONLY FACTS, ONLY TRUTH. THIS FACT IS TRUE; MALEFICENT YOU ARE NOT, MALLORY IS YOU.”

 

Rhyming. Great. Because you couldn’t have one story without a good, all-knowing cryptic who _rhymes_.

 

Mal shrugged away the desire to roll her eyes and looked up into the brightness of the sky. Storm clouds were gathering on the horizon, but didn’t move any closer. She wondered if they were like the snakes – if they would rain black blood down on her.

 

“Who are you?” She pretended not to notice her voice crack, or how her hands shook, instead focusing on the clouds as they steadily grew.

 

“I AM YOUR TEACHER – YOU ARE MY STUDENT.”

 

“Teacher? Teacher for what?”

 

Thunder rumbled as her Teacher growled and Mal clammed up instantly, fear tentatively burning away the illusion of calm.

 

“DO NOT QUESTION. SIMPLY ACCEPT WHAT IS AND KNOW THAT TIME SHALL REVEAL ALL. I AM YOUR TEACHER. KNOW THIS, ACCEPT THIS, AND KNOW ALL.”

 

Mal didn’t reply, instead settling against the ruins and running a hand through her hair. There was a pleased hum and the ground beneath her quaked and rumbled but she remained still, quiet. Teacher, she felt, would not hurt her.

 

“What’s the lesson?” She muttered, half expecting lightning to strike her down, though she knew the storm was not her Teacher’s doing, and half hoping for an answer. She had a right to know, she felt, he was, after all, invading her haven; and this was _her_ haven, no matter if something told her he had been here first.

 

“I WILL TEACH YOU MUCH, YOUNG FAERIE. BUT FIRST, YOU MUST UNDERSTAND LIE AND TRUTH. YIU MUST UNDERSTAND THE TALE OF THE GREAT UNITER.”

 

Mal cocked her head slightly, humming as she thought of where she’d heard such a name. It sounded familiar, but the harder she thought, the more its origins seemed blurred…Anything connected to it felt foggy, swarmed by smog and corrupted by green fire…

 

It clicked. Her Mother. Her Mother had prattled on about disrespect to magic and the vengeance she would enact on those who committed such a crime. Namely King Beast, who claimed a sacred prophecy and announced himself to be ‘ _the Uniter’_ even though many called him a liar.

 

“…King –”

 

“THE BEAST IS NOT THE UNITER. BEASTS CANNOT TRULY UNITE, ONLY DESTROY. ONLY CORRUPT. YOU WOULD DO WELL TO REMEMBER HIS ACTS TO SEPARATE, TO DESTROY.”

 

“But he _united_ Auradon –”

 

“BEASTS DO NOT UNITE PEOPLE. FEAR UNITES PEOPLE, AND IT WAS FEAR THAT UNITED THE PEOPLE OF AURADON. AND IN _CREATING_ AURADON, THE BEAST HAS EXILED ‘VILLAINS’, DISRUPTED THE DELICATE BALANCE AND ALLOWED HIS SUBJECTS TO BELIEVE THEMSELVES SUPERIOR, IMPERVIOUS TO DARKNESS SIMPLY BECAUSE IT IS NOT THE EMINENCE THAT BIRTHED THEM.” Teacher announced, an angry undertone lacing every word.

 

“THE BEAST HAS CREATED AN ILLUSION, A LIE AND CLAIMED A SACRED PROPHECY FOR HIMSELF TO ASSERT DOMINANCE OVER SHEEP. THERE WAS NO GOOD IN THIS ACT, IT WAS INSTEAD AN ACT OF SADISM AND SELFISHNESS. NO UNITER WOULD DISRUPT BALANCE, ONLY CREATE IT; MAINTAIN IT.

 

THE UNITER WILL UNDERSTAND THE WORLD AS IT IS; GREY – NOT BLACK AND WHITE, NOT ONE THAT IS CORRUPTED BY THE OTHER. LIGHT CANNOT EXIST WITHOUT DARKNESS; WITHOUT LIGHT THERE IS NO DARKNESS. WITHOUT COMPARISON, ONE CANNOT TRULY UNDERSTAND WHAT THEY MAY BE _‘DEFINED’_ BY. HOW CAN YOU KNOW DARKNESS IF YOU HAVE NOT EXPERIENCED IT? SLEPT IN ITS SHADOW? BEEN TOUCHED BY ITS TAINT AND TEMPTATION? YOU CANNOT. THE UNITER UNDERSTANDS THIS.”

 

“Then who is it? Why can’t they just step up and claim the prophecy? Prove the Beast is a liar?” Mal asked, now truly curious despite herself.

 

“YOU WILL KNOW, WHEN THEY ARE READY TO FACE THE TRUTH. TO ACKNOWLEDGE WHAT THEY HAVE HIDDEN FROM THE WORLD, FROM THEMSELVES, FOR SO LONG. WHEN THE TIME FOR WAR COMES, THEY WILL RISE TO FACE THEIR DESTINY.”

 

Wait – _what?_ War? Mal’s eyebrows practically buried themselves in her hair, her whole body suddenly taught with emotion as she leapt up in surprise.

 

“What do you mean _war?_ There is no war – there hasn’t been war in – in – in – in I don’t even _know_ how long! What – you think it’s suddenly going to pop up out of freaking _nowhere?”_

 

The ground rumbled and Mal sat back down, quieting the raging inferno of emotion that swelled within her. The rumbling quieted in response and the wind shifted directions, like a gentle sigh being heaved.

 

“WAR WILL COME – IT IS INEVITABLE. FOR IT IS THE DESTINY OF THE UNITER TO END WAR TO ALLOW PEACE, TO BRING FORTH HARMONY FROM DISCORD, TO ESTABLISH ORDER WHERE THERE IS ONLY CHAOS. TO BRING PEACE, DO YOU NOT SEE THAT THERE MUST BE WAR? TO HAVE HARMONY THERE MUST BE DISCORD. TO HAVE ORDER – THERE MUST FIRST BE CHAOS. THIS IS THE FUTURE OF AURADON. THE FUTURE OF THE UNITER. SIMPLY KNOW THIS, ACCEPT THIS – AND KNOW ALL.”

 

“But can they not just – oh I don’t know… _unite_ whatever it is they’re uniting? War is not how you unite people – it’s how you separate them.”

 

“WAR IS BROUGHT FROM HATE, HATE FROM CONFLICT, CONFLICT FROM DISORDER AND DISAGREEMENTS. FROM SEPARATION. THE WORLD IS ALREADY SEPARATE – TO UNITE, YOU MUST FIRST HAVE A CAUSE. WAR IS THE CAUSE. YOU UNITE PEOPLE TO FIGHT OTHERS, TO FIGHT IN THE NAME OF SOMETHING YOU BELIEVE IN. TO END WAR, ONE SIDE MUST WIN OR BOTH MUST ADMIT DEFEAT. LOSS, PAIN, DEATH, _FEAR_ BRING DEFEAT. THE UNITER SHALL END THE WAR, AND THE PEOPLE OF BOTH SIDES WILL UNITE IN THEIR LOSS. WAR WILL END. DISORDER SHALL BECOME ORDER, HARMONY SHALL BE BORN FROM THEIR DISCORD.

 

MAKE NO MISTAKE, YOUNG FAERIE, WAR DOES NOT HAPPEN OVER A SINGLE DAWN. IT IS BORN FROM THE BELIEVED SUFFERING OF MANY SEASONS – IT CLIMAXES OVER A SINGLE DUSK AND RISES IN A SINGLE DAWN. WHEN AURADON LOOKS TO THE HORIZON, AN ARMY OF VENGEANCE, OF THE WRONGED, SHALL WAIT WITH THE SUN. LIKE WAR DOES NOT RISE FROM ONE MORN, NEITHER DOES PEACE. IT WILL TAKE TIME – AND THE STRENGTH AND WILL POWER OF THE UNITER TO SEE IT THROUGH. TO ENSURE THE SAFETY AND UNITY OF THE PEOPLE. ONLY THEN IS THEIR TASK COMPLETE.”

 

“What if they’re never ready? What if they never _admit_ to themselves whatever it is you think they need to? What if they never come?”

 

“THEY WILL COME. THEY WILL FACE THEIR DEMONS AS ALL HUMANS DO – IN THE NIGHT, WHEN DEMONS RISE. IT IS A HARROWING JOURNEY THEY FACE, BUT THE UNITER DOES NOT TREK THIS PATH ALONE. WHEN THEY ADMIT TO THEMSELVES WHAT THEY MUST, THEIR BURDEN IS DIVIDED, AND THEY SHALL RISE TO UNITE AS THEY ARE DESTINED. WHETHER THEY UNDERSTAND IT OR NOT – THEY ARE THE BEACON, THE SYMBOL THAT THE PEOPLE WILL FOLLOW.”

 

Mal remained silent, the feeling of something stirring rising in her gut. Teacher stayed quiet, though Mal felt his presence in the shift of the trees in the wind, the silence comforting instead of stifling. Something pulled on her hand and Mal stumbled forward, barely catching herself on the pillar.

 

Teacher hummed thoughtfully as Mal fought to keep herself on dry land.

 

“YOU ARE DRAWN TO THE BEGINNING. PERHAPS, YOU ARE MORE PREPARED THAN I BELIEVED.”

 

“What? This is clearly –” Mal grunted, wrapping her arm around the pillar, “Me trying to stay _dry!_ Drawn? More like I’m being freaking _pulled!_ And to _what?_ ”

 

Her foot slipped and Mal clattered to her knees, releasing the pillar in favour of preventing her face-planting into solid stone. She reached for the pillar again but found herself dragged into the water, head first. 

 

She spluttered, gulping down water and choking, barely able to hear her Teacher as the world blurred and faded around her.

 

“PREPARED TO KNOW ALL. TO SEE THE BEGINNING AND END OF AURADON.”

 

\----

 

The water gave way to the darkness of an endless forest, and amongst a thick scattering of trees, in the cavern of a meadow just beyond their shadows, stood a towering, spiralled castle under siege.

 

Its bricks were pitch black, the steel of its gates mangled and twisted like burnt bone, the windows glowing green and red; and from within came the thickened, gargling noises of death. The stench, even from a distance, was near unbearable and Mal quaked, latching onto a nearby tree and panting in both exhaustion and disgust. Her clothes were plastered to her, soaked and cold, making her shiver as the wind whistled through the trees like a harbinger.

 

There was no water anywhere near her, and Mal would’ve felt certain Teacher had left her if not for the presence surrounding her, the way the shadows on the ground seemed to shift beneath her feet and take on their own form, a fluid mass; rippling like the gentle waves of the lake water.

 

“THIS IS THE BEGINNING – THE MOMENT THAT AURADON’S FATE WAS SEALED IN HELL FIRE.”

 

More screams echoed from within and it was then that Mal took note of the dead bodies trailing up to the doors of the castle. Blood soaked the earth but Mal paid it no notice; instead bending down near the nearest corpse and examining the crisp, burnt flesh. It was still smoking, a mix of blistering red, dark, murky brown and the darkest black she’d ever seen; but there was no denying it was fresh.

 

She made her way to the next, and the next, examining them and taking note of their clothes and the solid yellow of their crest, trailing the corpses until she stood outside the gates.

 

“They were running away.”

 

“MEN WHO DO NOT WISH TO FIGHT, RUN IN THE FACE OF DEATH. IT IS BETTER TO HAVE TEN MEN WHO WILL FIGHT UNTIL DEATH THAN TWENTY MEN SCARED TO DIE. IN THIS TIME, THEIR LEADER DID NOT CARE – HE TOO WAS AFRAID, AND CHOSE QUANTITY IN THE FACE OF DANGER.”

 

“Danger?” She wondered, walking slowly up to the large doors, where they lay against their frames; unhinged, and casting a cursory glance inside. The huge hall was laden with corpses, all in varying positions, and murdered efficiently, using various methods. Some had their throats slit, or their own weapons plunged into different parts of their body, others were charred to the bone or impaled on the walls. There were some laid out on the ground with their eyes gouged out, mouths filled with blood and other entirely decapitated; the heads stacked neatly to frame the corpses that sat low on the walls.

 

The sight made her gag and she stumbled back, bending over and praying not to throw up. Her stomach rolled and she dry heaved into a nearby bush, arms wrapped around her stomach. Teacher said nothing, though Mal could feel him somewhere inside the doors, overlooking the massacre.

 

“DANGER.” He said simply and Mal nodded, offering a shaky thumbs up in response.

 

“Danger – yep, definitely there. Very very _very_ dangerous. And gross. Oh God,” She garbled, heaving into the bush again before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and leaning against the cold stone of the castle.

 

“Who did this?” She enquired, though there was some part of her that never wanted to know.

 

“SOME CALL HER DRAGON. OTHERS – MONSTER, AND OTHERS STILL, NAME HER WITCH. MANY CALL HER THE MISTRESS OF HELL – BUT YOU, MALLORY, CALL HER MOTHER.”

 

Mal stiffened. She had always known her mother was evil, and committed many dark deeds, but besides the violent _‘conditioning’_ that she experienced, she had never truly seen it. But yet, here it was, first hand evidence of how twisted her mother was. It was suddenly no wonder her mother was disappointed in her if she expected Mal to _ever_ be capable of something as disgusting as this.

 

But yet, it didn’t make sense. Something wasn’t adding up and it was just a matter of what.

 

“Wait – this can’t be my mom’s doing. You said this is the beginning, but my mom was dead! She was resurrected just before they brought her to the island. There’s no way this could be her!”

 

Teacher chuckled darkly and Mal found herself turning back to face the violence.

 

“DO YOU TRULY BELIEVE THAT _DEATH_ COULD HOLD HER STEADY IN THE FACE OF CAPTURE? YOUR MOTHER IS A TWISTED SOUL, AND THOUGH SHE BARES NO MARK OF ILLNESS – IT IS UNDOUBTEDLY THERE, INSANITY IS RARELY NOT PART OF SOMEONE SO DARK. SHE ESCAPED – AND WHEN THE KING SENT HIS FORCES TO BRING HER DOWN, SHE DECIMATED THEM. BEAST IS A FOOL – HE BELIEVED HIMSELF MORE POWERFUL AND DELUDED HIMSELF INTO THINKING THE DRAGON WOULD BE TOO WEAK TO FIGHT HIM.

 

MALEFICENT ESCAPED, JUST AS THE ISLAND WAS FINISHED AND THE OTHER ‘VILLAINS’ MOVED INTO IT. SHE DECIMATED HIS ARMY AND SPENT MORE THAN THREE YEARS ELUDING CAPTURE, UNTIL SHE WAS OVERCOME. THE BEAST AND YOUR MOTHER SHARE A SIMILAR TRAIT – DELUSION. SHE TOO BELIEVED HERSELF TO HAVE BEATEN ALL THAT HAD COME TO FACE HER, AND SHE WAS DEFEATED BY A NOBLE FOOT SOLDIER. SHE WAS CAPTURED AND BROUGHT TO THE ISLE, MAGICALLY BOUND AND TOO DAMAGED BY HER INJURIES TO FIGHT. THE BEAST CLAIMED VICTORY AND WAS NAMED KING FOR A DEED HE DID NOT COMMIT. THE REST IS HISTORY TO YOU.”

 

“But does that mean she didn’t die? Aurora and Prince Philip – they didn’t kill her? Or they did and she escaped after being resurrected? And what happened to the soldier? How did he even get near my mom? I mean, yeah, she’s cocky but to not notice someone is alive is a bit much. Who was he?”

 

“YOUR MOTHER PERISHED UNDER THE POWER OF THE SWORD OF TRUTH. BEAST DID NOT RESURRECT HER – HE HAD NO POWER, AND NO WAY TO ENLIST THE HELP OF MAGIC TO RAISE SUCH EVIL. DIABLO – HER PET, COULD SHIFT FROM BIRD TO MAN AS SHE COULD FROM WOMAN TO DRAGON. HE SACRIFICED HIS GIFT TO RESURRECT HIS LEADER – BECOMING BIRD FOR ETERNITY.

 

AS FOR THE BOY? SEE FOR YOURSELF.”

 

The shadows of her Teacher’s form shrouded her sight and when they cleared, Mal was standing in a darkened throne room, overrun by thorn-laced vines and dripping with crimson blood and mangled body parts. There weren’t quite as many corpses, nor were they as gruesome as the ones coating the lower parts of the castle; but they were there.

And the sight of them turned Mal’s stomach, though she held strong.

 

And there, amidst the violence, stood her mother. Tall and dark and looming, she laughed menacingly at the destruction that lay around her, a curled tail slowly disappearing into the ends of her cloak.

 

She strode down the length of the hall, walking amongst the dead and laughing at their pathetic ends – and there, Mal saw him. One hand curled around a sharp, dagger, with a blade that gleamed like the ocean at night; he lay beneath the bloodied corpses, pretending to be dead. And as her mother strode passed him, he struck. First slicing cleanly across her legs to cripple her and then driving the dagger through her back until it pulsed with blood as it emerged through her stomach. Her mother gasped and shrieked, seeming to shrivel into herself as the soldier quickly cuffed her hands with rusted manacles. It was then, as her mother fainted under the restraint of her magic and her own blood loss, that Mal truly looked him over.

 

He was young, lean and muscular with fluffy dark hair and warm, terrified brown eyes. He was younger than she was, she was certain, and yet, Mal was overwhelmed by the deed he had just committed. He had taken down the Mistress of Evil herself, with a single dagger, on his own – without the help of fairies, or specially conjured and enchanted weapons. He was just a boy who did what no one man could.

 

Mal watched as he carefully plucked the blade from Maleficent, wiping it on his cloak and carefully laying her on the ground. He hadn’t hit anything major, Mal noted, he had just injured her. She watched as he lifted her up, after having bandaged her wounds, and stared at him in disbelieving awe as he walked out of her castle. She followed him, unable to help herself, and oblivious to the dead surrounding her. He walked quickly and as the night grew colder, shed his cloak to protect her mother from the cold.

 

Mal wondered if he was crazy or just that compassionate – that _good_ , that even after seeing true evil and watching it spit and laugh at his dead comrades, he could still care for it.

 

She watched as he entered an encampment in the early hours of dawn, presenting Maleficent and being clapped on the back by the remaining soldiers who forced the injured women into a cage that radiated power. And then it happened.

 

A big burly man, in what looked like royal garb, exited his tent. Liam immediately bowed to him, with a humble, “Sir Edward”, as the man stopped in front of him. There was a pause and Mal watched in horror as he drove his sword swiftly through Liam’s stomach, the blade poking harshly out of his back. He twisted the sword slightly, the sound of it tearing through flesh almost enough to make her want to vomit, but she didn’t dare look away.

 

She gasped, a scream caught in her throat as she clasped a hand across her mouth, her other arm wrapped around her stomach that burned with phantom pain.

 

Liam’s big, brown, betrayed eyes locked on the cool calm of the man and Mal swirled with rage.

 

“I’m sorry, Liam,” Sir Edward told him curtly, “but we simply cannot have anyone know that _you_ were the one to bring the witch in.”

 

He plucked the dagger from Liam’s side and pulled his own sword from his chest. Blood trickled from his mouth and rushed from the wound and Sir Edward stood quietly, wiping his sword on Liam’s clothing before kicking Liam into the dirt. He wasn’t dead yet; and lay there, gasping and shivering, a shaky hand pressing into his wound as the other clawed the dirt.

 

Mal didn’t even realise she had moved, but suddenly she was beside him, holding his hand and looking deep into those warm eyes.  They seemed to look into her own eyes instead of through her, taking count of her. She brushed her hand gently through his hair and hummed softly, seeing the crinkle of a smile as he looked at her.

 

“M…” he gurgled, bloody teeth grinning at her tiredly, “Mal…”

 

She could barely hide her surprise, but nodded to him, squeezing his hand and feeling him squeeze back. “I’m right here,” She muttered, even as a horrified yell echoed through the camp and a man raced towards them.

 

Liam tried to glance towards him, but couldn’t move. He was quickly becoming cold and Mal desperately tried not to look away from him, though she couldn’t help herself; glancing up to look at the furious man.

 

Mal could tell instantly that he was related to the fallen hero, just from the kind composition of his dark eyes, and the gentle curves of his face. He was enraged and flung himself at Sir Edward, screaming profanities that dragged nearby soldiers to restrain him.

 

Liam squeezed her hand gently, Mal looking back at him just in time to see him mouth the words ‘love’ and her name as the light faded from his eyes. Tears rushed to her eyes and she stared at him silently, overwhelmed by the sudden end to the odd kinship she felt to him.

 

“Guards!” the murderer screamed, “Arrest him! He is to be exiled to the Isle of the Lost! For the murder of his son!”

 

Mal’s whole body twitched and she desired nothing more than to drive a sword through the murderer’s chest to claim justice for Liam’s murder. She stood, letting Liam’s hand go and allowing her mind to become a whirlwind of violence, taking a step towards Sir Edward as the soldiers dragged Liam’s father away only to step into a hole.

 

She fell into it, darkness engulfing her and when it dissipated she had returned to the lakeside. Her chest burned with anger and she screamed in frustration.

 

“Why did you _do that!_ I was – I was going to –”

 

“I AM AWARE OF YOUR INTENTIONS. BUT IT APPEARS YOUR POWERS ARE TOO UNCONTROLLABLE – SUCH AN INCIDENT BETWEEN YOU AND THE SOLDIER SHOULD NOT HAVE BEEN POSSIBLE. LIAM OSWALD DIED ALONE, AS MALCOLM OSWALD WAS ARRESTED. IF IT IS POSSIBLE FOR YOU TO CHANGE THE INSTANCES OF HIS DEATH, IT IS POSSIBLE FOR YOU TO CHANGE THE SURVIVAL OF SIR WILLIAM EDWARDS. AND HE _MUST_ SURVIVE, NO MATTER WHAT THE CRIME.”

 

“But –”

 

“BUT NOTHING! DO NOT QUESTION. SIMPLY KNOW THIS, ACCEPT THIS – AND KNOW ALL. WHEN YOU ARE MORE YOURSELF, WE SHALL MEET AGAIN.”

 

Mal seethed, kicking a nearby rock into the lake and feeling a storm eclipse all thoughts.

 

“What do you mean _‘more myself’_? Like I won’t kill the guy if I see him _again_? Cause that’s about as _me_ as I’m ever going to _get!_ ”

 

Lightning flashed dangerously in the sky and Mal was blown away from the edge of the lake.

 

“WE SHALL MEET WHEN YOU ARE YOURSELF. MURDER MAY BE PART OF YOU – IT IS A DECISION WE ALL FACE, COMMIT TO AN ACT OF DARKNESS OR IGNORE IT. BUT YOU MUST NOT COMMIT SUCH A DEED IN THE PAST – WHEN IT CHANGES THE FUTURE. WHEN YOU ARE SETTLED AND CALM, WHEN YOU BEGIN TO UNDERSTAND YOUR PURPOSE – WE SHALL MEET. BUT UNTIL THEN, MALLORY OF THE FAE,” Teacher grumbled, before everything faded to familiar darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be updating the tags as I work out more of what's happening, just so you know. Let me know what you think, my dears.


	3. The Royal Reconnaissance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened to Mal, Mal wakes up, Mal meets people, People talk, The Descendants arrive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to increase the line spacing before and when I pasted it into the Post box, but it didn't really work, so my apologies. But it's well over five thousand words, so I hope that makes up for it's absence in the last year. This chapter is just kind of more set up for a lot of the character arcs and things that'll happen but, the Descendants' arrival to Auradon Prep will be next chapter - promise.

**Some slight adjustments have been made to the chapter, to gear it more towards the plot I finally developed and get rid of the details that make no sense. It's mostly the same - just bits in Dr Meyers and Belle's bit and Mal's wake-up have changed. :)**  

 

“Fuck,” Mal breathed harshly, feeling her lungs burn in her chest.

 

She was running. She’d woken up late after the firm hand of her mother had put her to sleep and she was late. She didn’t know what would happen if she arrived when they should have been departed, but she feared she’d be left behind.

 

Alone without her friends on the Isle.

 

Alone with her Mother.

 

Gods, she couldn’t be left alone with her – not after everything Teacher had showed her, not when she was learning so much. And certainly not when there would be no-one to patch her up when her Mother split her skin open. Not when Evie would be gone.

 

“C’mon, Mal,” she muttered to herself, skidding around a corner to the roar of thunder and pressing a hand to her tender bruise. “Hurry.”

 

 _“Hurry Mal_ ,” a voice repeated from her side, audible even with the crash of thunder overhead.

 

Startled, she looked to her right just briefly, knowing the danger of letting her attention slip and nearly gasped. Floating at her side was the pale, translucent form of a blind girl; paper thin and clothed with thread bare cloth, worn ragged with age and use. She could see right through her to the dilapidated buildings on the other side of the street and realised rather suddenly she wasn’t a girl at all. She was a ghost.

 

 _“Outrun the storm,”_ she spoke urgently, her voice thundering through Mal’s chest much like Teacher’s, _“Get to safety!”_

 

“W-what?” Mal breathed harshly, “What do you mean?”

 

Her whole form flickered as she sighed in frustration, a crash of lightning almost making her disappear in its light.

 

 _“You need to outrun the storm,”_ she told her, her voice informative before it turned menacing, her eyes burning behind the stitches that held them closed, “ _or be struck down.”_

 

Mal wanted to ask what she meant, only to be answered when lightning struck somewhere behind her, the sizzling of wires coming to life and the smell of burnt wood making an adequate response.

 

The ghost tensed; her head turning at an unnatural angle to look behind her. Her face paled beyond what was normal and when she looked back at Mal she had changed. Her hair darkened slightly, washing out her face. Her skin filled out, erasing the look of hunger that clung to her before and her eyes – Where once her eyes had been sewn shut, now, they looked at her openly. They shone; a brilliant green, revitalised and glowing, like Mal’s but so much brighter.

 

 _“You must go,”_ she urged again, and Mal nodded, looking at her only to trip; flying forward into the muddy road.

 

The ghost looked on anxiously as lightning struck again – once, twice, three times – and Mal stumbled to her feet, breaking into a run as soon as she was steady.

 

“Why’s it – why’s it following me?”

 

 _“There are no answers here, but when you’re ready – when you’re_ safe _–”_ She paused and suddenly Mal’s right arm was burning with pain unlike anything she’d ever felt.

 

She slowed suddenly, looking down only to see the ghost’s hand on her skin, solid and blisteringly hot in comparison to her incorporeal body.

 

 _“We’ll find you,”_ she promised, _“But you must go!”_

 

Mal cringed at the sting as she lifted her hand away but took off running again, the storm gathering on her heels as she rounded the final turn – the limo finally in sight.

 

 _“We’ll find you!”_ She heard her call out again, right as her friends turned to see her.

 

“Mal? Mal! Mal – oh my gods _look out_!”

 

**“Mal!”**

 

**_-_ **

 

 _“What_ are _they?” A woman asked; her voice soft as she looked on tentatively. The doctor flustered at her side, his frustration and confusion easily read as he looked down at his charts._

 

_She peered through the glass into the sterile white room of the clinic, at the small baby swaddled in faded lilac blankets and asleep in an incubator. She seemed even smaller now than when she first held her._

 

_“I’m afraid I don’t know, your Highness.”_

 

 _“Be honest with me, Dr Meyers. Is it from the birth? It_ was _…rather unusual – but even then –”_

 

_“No, your Highness, it’s not from the birth. Fairy Godmother has assured me that it was fairly standard as far as magic goes, though there were a few irregularities. It’s not a result of magic or the strain of the birth as far as we can tell – it’s…I’ve never seen anything like this –” he cut himself off, dragging a hand down his face as she tensed further. It was clear that his bedside manner left much to be desired._

 

_“Is she going to be okay?”_

 

_-_

 

_“Mal! Mal come on! Mal!”_

 

_“M! M c’mon, don’t give up!”_

 

 _“Mal. Mal please wake up! Please don’t leave us. Don’t leave_ me.”

 

_-_

 

“She’s been asleep for nearly a week…Is she alright?” A woman asked, dressed in a yellow dress and a white headband. She held herself with an element of regality, and it was easily understood that her presence was significant.

 

“Yes, your Highness; it appears to be merely a temporary coma from what we can tell,” the doctor replied steadily, silently concealing his own amazement at the girl’s lack of major injury, though his Queen had no such reservations.

 

“Why, there’s not a scratch on her. But how could that be? From what the children said, she was struck by lightning…”

 

“We’re not sure, your Highness,” he gently maneuvered to the girl’s right side, tentatively pealing back the blanket to reveal her side and her limp arm. “However, we have discovered several things of interest – the first of which is _this…_ on her arm.”

 

“What is that? Surely it can’t be…is it?” She stood at his side, carefully examining her arm; lifting it carefully to turn it and finding that, as she expected, it continued onto the inside of her arm. The poor child. If this was as she thought, the weight she had to bear was unprecedented.

 

“We’re not sure, your Highness, it could merely be a coincidence. We’ll need Fairy Godmother to examine it to be certain, but with the school year starting again so soon, we could hardly keep her here.”

 

Belle nodded, seemingly brushing it off even as her heart boomed raucously in her chest and her thoughts raced. She couldn't believe it, that after all these years, Aurora could be right. But it wasn't the time to dwell on it. No, now the child's health was more important, she reminded herself, busying herself with carefully tucking the blanket back around the unconscious girl.

 

“Of course, she's a busy woman. And the _other_ points of interest?”

 

Dr Meyers smiled at her tentatively, cocking his head to the side as he meandered towards a table in the corner of the sterile white room. He collected a series of files, scanning them all briefly before settling on one and removing the contents to show his Queen.

 

“See here,” he said, showing her photos of a few elevated red marks on the girl, “This is called a Lichtenberg figure – it’s from blood vessels bursting. It’s a severe burn. And here, the way this forks is indicative of it being the point where the lightning struck her. You’ll notice, in this photo, there’s several severe third degree burns – and there’s another site like this, where the bolt exited her body.”

 

Belle shuddered, teary eyed and horrified at the photos yet perplexed at how serene and healed she was now.

 

“There’s all of the signs that she was struck by lightning – eye-witness accounts from her friends, the limo driver and Fairy Godmother, and she even suffered cardiac arrest almost immediately after it occurred. All very normal – even her current coma is normal,” He explained, before his eyes brightened and an incredibly fascinated demeanour overwhelmed his character.

 

“What _isn’t_ normal, is the fact that all signs of the lightning striking her; the burns, the Lichtenberg figures, the slight spasmic twitching to her limbs, the almost entirely unheard arrhythmia – they’ve all _healed_ and at a significant rate as well. The only remaining signs of the trauma are these little discoloured puckered spots here, here and here,” He declared, quickly whipping through another series of photographs depicting the aforementioned puckered spots, one at the entry and exit sites and another where the worst of the burns was.

 

“And do you know…why this happened? The healing, I mean.”

 

“Not exactly – but she _is_ Maleficent’s daughter. When we’d stabilised her after she was first rushed in, we performed a regular exam and discovered significant signs of repeated trauma and scarring – which leads us to the conclusion that this improved healing factor she’s displaying didn’t happen before Auradon. But there are only so many differences between here and Auradon and for her; one of them is the presence of magic.”

 

Belle raised her hand to her forehead, feeling a dizzying headache coming on as she huffed out a sigh. She looked up at him, locking eyes and giving him a most regal stare that quickly quieted him _._

 

“Repeated trauma?”

 

Dr Meyers gulped. “Yes.”

 

“Does that or does that _not_ mean what I think it means?”

 

It was not as much a question as it was a statement. Belle understood quite clearly what it meant, but she sincerely hoped otherwise. The knowledge that these children had spent their whole lives suffering at the hands of their parents, when they could have been elsewhere, would be too much for her to bear. Of all the things she had done in her time as Queen, she wouldn’t be able to stand knowing she’d failed _children_. What good was it to be known as Queen Mother if she couldn’t protect _children?_

 

“…Yes. These specific traumas are signs of child abuse. And no, we don’t know for certain if the other children have endured the same hardships as Mal – they won’t let us examine them. They’ve quite rightly declared that their only purpose was to attend school; physical examination wasn’t mentioned at all in the stipulations of the decree and we can’t force them to oblige.”

 

Belle sighed. She wanted to help them, and the easiest way to know how to start, was to know the extent of their wounds. She didn’t want to have to force them to oblige; it was the fastest way to be dismissed as untrustworthy but if she needed to…

 

“Thank you Dr Meyers.”

 

“Of course, your Highness.”

 

“And I trust –”

 

“Anything regarding Mal or the physical trauma of the other children will be strictly confidential, my Lady, as always,” he agreed with a cordial bow of his head, already returning the photos to their file and quietly disposing of them in a set of medical drawers to the right of the table.

 

There was a commotion outside the door before it opened suddenly, only barely missing slamming against the wall. Belle stifled a sigh of frustration as she turned to see the tall form of her husband shadowed in the doorway; stern and imposing looking.

 

Dr Meyers turned to face him with a congenial smile, inclining his head politely, “Your Majesty, I wasn’t expecting you, but it’s a pleasure.”

 

King Adam barely even acknowledged the pleasantry, looking at Belle with some curiosity that quickly changed to disdain as his eyes locked on Mal.

 

He gestured towards her with an unkind hand and Dr Meyers nodded in understanding, his own look of distaste at the King’s demeanour carefully concealed.

 

“There’s really nothing we can tell you seeing as there’s not much we know ourselves, your Majesty. She’s taking the time she needs to heal and will wake up when her body deems itself repaired enough to manage the strain.”

 

The King tapped his foot with impatience, showing little care for the trauma Mal had suffered, and little curiosity at the lack of injury visible.

 

“Have you tested her yet?” He inquired.

 

“Oh, well…no. We can’t perform many tests without her being conscious – and even then, we’d need her consent. As it is, even if we were to proceed _without_ her consent, her friends have made it very clear that that is most ill-advised,” Dr Meyers joked. Though in truth, it wasn’t as much a joke as a light-hearted retelling of the violent threats Mal’s friends had sworn against him should he harm her.

 

He’d expected the worst to come from Jafar’s son and had been most unpleasantly surprised at the colourful and morbidly inventive threats that Evie had whispered.

 

“But her _friends_ aren’t in charge. They aren’t the ruler of this kingdom, doctor, _I am._ And if I say that I want the tests done, then I want the tests _done_ ,” the King snarled, looking every bit as Beastly as if he’d been wrapped in fur and horns.

 

“Well,” he tried again, “Ignoring those factors, there’s also the fact that they’re not obligated to agree to any type of test or physical examination. I must remind you, sire, the stipulations of Prince Ben’s royal decree didn’t mention any kind of medical attention was necessary. Mal only received such because of the circumstances of her arrival.”

 

“You think you’re responsible or even _capable_ of reminding me of such discrepancies, doctor? You are my _subject –”_ he sneered the word as if it were something dirty and Dr Meyers clenched his fists tightly, though his forced smile remained unchanged on his face.

 

Belle frowned crossly.

 

“– Adam –”

 

“No Belle –”

 

 _“–Adam!_ That is quite enough,” She growled, glaring at her husband who looked rather cowed before she faced the good doctor, her expression far kinder than before. “And thank you, Dr Meyers, though I must apologise for this rather undesirable affair. You’ve been very helpful. Do let us know when she wakes up.”

 

“Of course,” Dr Meyers answered, watching his Queen shuffle a disgruntled Beast towards the clinic exit.

 

_-_

 

So this _sucked._ Everything felt so sore, she almost felt like she’d pass out just from the pain – it was near blinding.

 

Mal supressed a deep-seated groan as she took in the ache that radiated through her body; like someone had picked her up and slammed her through three storeys. There was a hushed tingle all through the skin of her right wrist, like little needle points were being pressed repeatedly into her flesh.

 

She remembered the snippets of conversation she heard; that woman asking the doctor about her arm. Could this have been what she was talking about? Was there a mark or something on it? She doesn’t recall ever having a scar on her right arm – her mother had always claimed it would do no good to injure her casting hand. But then, what could have changed?

 

What the hell had even happened?

 

She…

 

“Gods,” she muttered.

 

She had been late.

 

The limo.

 

The _ghost_.

 

The lightning.

 

She had been struck by lightning! _Actual_ lightning.

 

Honestly, should she even be alive? Her mother had always told her that being struck by lightning could kill you. It was a preferred method of hers to intimidate and eliminate large groups of targets. The force of the lightning strike could launch you out of our shoes, she’d said. It would heat the air around you to 5000 degrees – enough to burn a person alive; enough to superheat the air to the point where inhaling it would scar your windpipe; enough to asphyxiate you where you stood.

 

Of course, if that didn’t work, you could always end up being killed by all the other side effects.

 

But then…how was she alive?

 

And the pain – it didn’t feel like she was burned.

 

Cautiously, Mal peeked an eye open, glancing around and noting quite happily that she was alone before opening both eyes fully and sitting up. Her right arm throbbed with the movement but she persevered; sitting up properly against the headboard of what was apparently a hospital bed and taking stock of herself.

 

Her eyes widened in shock and she patted herself down incredulously. There wasn’t a scratch on her; or at least not one that she could see. But –

 

Her arm itched and she looked down, holding back a gasp at the sight of what looked to be a tattoo of two dragons, their tails curled around each other's and their bodies embracing a Yin-Yang symbol. It was beautiful, curling softly around the side of her arm so you could only ever see half at one time. Mal would've undoubtedly chosen something like this for herself if she'd thought of it. But she hadn't thought of it. And she hadn't had it before she left. Or when she was leaving.

 

 

Curious, she poked it, and squeaked as it pulsed and a burst of colour flashed across the dragons, leaving them shimmering in a glowing spectrum for a moment before it disappeared, dissolving seamlessly back into the monochromatic tones it had been before.

 

What the actual _fuck_.

 

“Ah, Mal! So good to see you awake!”

 

Mal shot back against the headboard, her hand raising instinctually; the dragons in her new tattoo glowing dimly, and a weird pulsing feeling shooting up her am.

 

A glowing barrier formed between her and the man in the lab-coat and Mal stared at it wide-eyed.

 

That was magic…

 

Magic…

 

She had _magic_. Oh my gods!

 

“Mal – it’s quite alright – I hope you know we’re not going to harm you –”

 

He didn’t have time to reply, as a blur of blue shot passed him and into the room, charging passed the barrier like it wasn’t even there before smothering Mal in a hug.

 

“Mal – I’m so glad you’re okay,” Evie sighed, gripping her tightly much to Mal’s delight, though she was still staring at the tangible shield she maintained. Evie looked at her properly, seeming underwhelmed by Mal’s lack of injury and instead focused on the dragons, curled and glowing green on her arm.

 

“Mal,” she nudged, “You can put down your arm. You’re okay. It’s just a Doctor – Dr Meyers, he’s been making sure you’re okay while we’re here. Nothing’s going to happen.”

 

Mal didn’t respond – honestly how could she focus on anything when she had _magic_ – until Evie leaned her forehead against her temple, sighing as she muttered reassuringly to her that nothing bad was going to happen if she put the shield down, except that maybe she’d be forced to meet Auradonians and endure decent food.

 

With a sigh of her own, she lowered her arm, relieved and surprised to see that her magic obeyed and the barrier dispersed, the doctor staying where he was before she raised it.

 

He smiled thoughtfully at them; “Hello Mal – as Evie said, I’m Dr Meyers. I don’t know if you recall but –”

 

“I do, _thanks_.”

 

“Great – then we can move swiftly on. I’m just going to take a few readings from the monitors if that’s alright with you, and maybe if you’d allow us – we could do a few tests to make sure you’re alright. You’ve been asleep for a while.”

 

“How long’s ‘a while’, Doc?”

 

Evie tucked some hair behind her ear, toying with the purple strands gently; “About two weeks, Mal.”

 

She must’ve been really worried, Mal thought, knowing how hard it was for Evie to show affection when on the Isle, even in private. The slightest contact between people; if not violent or inherently sexual, was seen as weakness. And to the Evil Queen and Maleficent, such weakness was unacceptable. The Evil Queen was quite adamant that Evie stay away from other people on the Isle; worried what bonds she might form that might threaten her future with a prince. Maleficent was another issue entirely.

 

Mal knew her Mother was powerful and brilliantly intelligent – even if she was now more _crazy_ than anything else. Her Mother knew magic and her Mother – as odd as it was to say – knew _love_. Mal had endured many lectures on the thing but perhaps the most important was when Maleficent had confronted her daughter over her growing interest in Evie.

 

She’d been venomous and manipulative while at the same time placating and almost sympathetic to the woes of discovering one’s true desires and how different they made you feel. Evie, she’d told Mal, was a threat to the brilliant evil she could do.

 

 _“Love is not a simple thing, Mal. It’s_ everywhere,” she’d said with some disgust, _“It is not bound by gender or class or any other barrier or label that we can put on society. You’d be a fool to not realise that – and I did_ not _raise a fool. What might seem just a simple attraction could blossom into_ feelings _and feelings turn into_ love. _You have no room for such frivolity in your life. You are my heir. Act like it.”_

 

Mal had sworn to smother the feelings Evie stirred in her into nothingness, but if the funny accelerated beeping indicated anything, it was that it obviously never worked.

 

Dr Meyers let out a soft chuckle and quickly approached, Mal watching him warily as he fiddled with the machine, quickly jotting things down on a clipboard before turning it off, talking all the while.

 

“There’s no need to be frightened, Mal –”

 

“I’m not.”

 

“–or nervous, I assure you. Evie is right when she says we have no interest in harming you. You went through quite an ordeal, being struck by lightning; it has quite the effect on the body, even if you seem mostly healed right now. With your expressed consent,” he stressed again, “we’d like to make sure you’ve healed _properly,_ not just quickly.”

 

Evie squeezed her hand gently at her hesitance and Mal looked into those doe eyes and felt the need to agree; not for her own reassurance, but for Evie’s.

 

Dr Meyers watched their exchange silently, and smiled, pleased, when at last she offered him a curt nod.

 

“Knock yourself out, Doc.”

 

\---

 

So maybe being so candid wasn’t such a great thing, she thought to herself, as she was wheeled back into her room what felt like hours later, tired and drained. Although on the up-side, she now had a clean bandage wrapped around the strange tattoo on her arm. If she ignored the flash of stark white in her peripheral vision and the rhythmic pulsing from the dragons beneath it, she could almost pretend it wasn’t there at all.

 

The nurses helping Dr Meyers had been all too intrigued by her new tattoo and she had been only too-pleased to put the fear of a God into them when she flashed her eyes and felt magic rush through her. Dr Meyers had noted the action on his clip-board, trying to be stealthy as if she didn’t see him noting everything she did. She was the Heir to Maleficent for Gods’ sake – if she couldn’t see a tall conspicuous man with the most ridiculous smile she’d ever seen in her life writing notes about her then she didn’t deserve to _have_ eyes _._ Honestly, if she ever got that bad at observing her enemies she’d _let_ her Mother scoop her eye balls out.

 

“Now, Mal, there is something else we’d like you to consider,” Dr Meyers broached, remaining at a polite distance and finally allowing Mal to get out of the fucking wheelchair on her own.

 

She hopped onto the hospital bed and stared at him until he twitched, acknowledging that he wouldn’t get a verbal response.

 

“Right,” he hummed, “as I’m sure you’ve noticed, outside of the barrier, you have magic. What I’m sure you _haven’t_ noticed is that it shouldn’t be quite as… _easy_ for you to use it.”

 

Well, that made absolutely no sense.

 

“I’m a fairy. Why wouldn’t it be easy?”

 

“I – erm,” The good doctor was interrupted by a sprightly knock on the door before it was carelessly thrown open, an older woman practically skipping in, dressed in light blue and the most ridiculous purple ribbon Mal had seen in her life.

 

It was slowly sinking in that _this_ was now her life but there was still some hope that not everyone in Auradon was quite so perky and outlandish.

 

“Hello there, dear!” She practically cheered, smiling softly at Mal before turning to Dr Meyers with a spot-light of a grin still stuck to her face.

 

Mal absently wondered if she’d break if she kept it up.

 

Well, one could only hope.

 

“How are you, Dr Meyers?” She asked, grasping his arm, still smiling.

 

Something felt deeply off-putting about her and Mal decided instantly that she didn’t like her. Her body screamed that she was a traitor, though she didn’t know what she was a traitor _to_ but Mal agreed. She wouldn’t trust this woman.

 

“Have you started?” She asked finally, and Dr Meyers nodded, relieved as he gestured for her to take the lead.

 

The grinning fool turned to Mal again and clasped her hands in an excited clap.

 

“Well then, Mal, it’s a _pleasure_. I’m not sure you’ve heard, but I’m Fairy Godmother, the Headmistress of your new school here in Auradon. I’m also the current _authority_ , shall we say, on magic. They don’t just call me Fairy Godmother for kicks, you know,” she laughed.

 

Good God. No wonder her Mother never actually tried to leave the Isle. Being faced with so much perk would probably kill her all over again.

 

 _Well, now’s the time to shine, Mal,_ she pondered, _be sweet or as expected? Which is less suspicious?_

 

“’Course they don’t, Fairy Flutter Nutter, that’d just be absurd.”

 

As expected it was then.

 

Fairy Godmother’s smile dimmed marginally, though she recovered quickly, sparing a glance to Dr Meyers who nodded seriously, indicating that this was just how she was.

 

“I don’t imagine Dr Meyers got to explain the magic portion of your day, did he? No? Wonderful. While we don’t really practise magic here in Auradon – not anymore, no – it is rather important that it’s properly explained, no matter what,” She beamed, “You’re aware of the circumstances of your arrival? That you were struck by lightning?”

 

“Really? No way. I totally thought I just got stuck with a sleeping curse.”

 

Discomfort tinged the old bat's smile, but she powered on, “Right, well… The lightning actually did you a favour, I suppose you could say. You’re an untrained fairy, Mal, and magic has been cut off from you for your whole life –”

 

“I don’t suppose I need to point out that that’s _your_ fault, right?”

 

“ – And while you didn’t feel it because you were unconscious, you leaving the barrier had _quite_ the effect on you,” Fairy Godmother continued, gracefully steam-rolling passed any interruption. “As it so happens, the pain you would’ve felt as your magic was released could very well have killed you… but seeing as you were already – indisposed, shall we say, you’ve had time to adjust as you healed. The interesting thing is that you seem to be able to use your magic quite easily.”

 

“…I’m a _fairy_.”

 

“Yes, we know –”

 

“Third generation, _Poppins_. There’s no way I wouldn’t have an easy connection with my magic.”

 

“– Well, that’s debatable –”

 

“So is your reasoning. Have you ever actually dealt with someone whose magic you blocked, or am I the first?”

 

Silence. Wonderful.

 

“Then that pretty much guarantees that you know nothing about what could happen to me, doesn’t it?”

 

Fairy Godmother flapped listlessly for a few moments as Dr Meyers stared morosely at the ceiling, before she clapped again.

 

“Well,” she said through a forced smile, “that’s quite the argument you’ve got there. Perhaps you’d consider Debate Club, hmm? But in the mean-time – we need you to be tested for magic.”

 

Mal sat quietly as the woman looked at her earnestly; nearly expectantly. Gods, the old bat actually thought she’d comply with this ludicrous request? Test her magic?

 

The door whooshed open and the two adults jumped slightly. Dr Meyers went to close it as Fairy Godmother stayed staring at her, but Mal knew it was too late to stop the presence that had wandered in. 

 

It slunk through the room like a shadow and curled around her protectively, the lights overhead flickering as the weight of a hand that wasn't there settled on her shoulder.

 

 _“Say no, Mal,”_ a voice whispered into her ear, _“Tell her no. Tell her never. They mustn’t know about you."_

 

 _Know what about me,_ she wondered.

 

She wasn't expecting a response, though to her shock she got one, as the weight stretched to both her shoulders and the voice came again, soothing and cautious.

 

 _"You're strong,"_ it told her,  _"So strong. It's dangerous for them to know. You mustn't let them know. There are beasts here in sheep's clothing. Tell them_ no."

 

Mal didn’t react outwardly to the voice, although her body hummed with familiarity at the gentle urging, and her tattoo raged with burned at the presence she felt.

 

She knew the presence. She'd felt it before, with Teacher.  _Liam_. He was here.

 

She wanted to ask him questions, even if they were just lingering thoughts in her head but knew she would never get the chance, not in this room and not while imprisoned in this foul country. They’d watch her every move even after she left the hospital.

 

She’d never truly be alone again in Auradon.

 

 _“Tell them no, Mal. You’re not here for them, you’re here to learn,”_ he whispered to her, though Mal could tell that he knew different. She was here because of her Mother, because she wanted the wand. She wasn’t here to learn anything – at least not from these idiots. Teacher though... well he was a different story entirely.

 

Fairy Godmother seemed to take her silence as fear, rushing to assure her, “It’ll only take a few minutes – an hour or so at most – very fast –”

 

“And painless,” the good Doctor added at her sharp nudge.

 

“ – Yes, painless,”

 

As if to deny the statement, a furious burning began in her arm, radiating out from her tattoo and slithering into her chest. She hid a wince as the pressure built and Liam's presence leaned into her again, taking up a gentle hum. 

 

“Look, I know you’re very used to things just happening for you in your little world of fluffy denial, and people being nice and accommodating no matter what. But that’s not how the _real_ world is, _dear,”_ Mal drawled, sitting forward to stare at the offended woman, with a sneered smile.

 

“So let me tell you this; you look like an over-stuffed pin-cushion.”

 

Fairy Godmother let out a huff.

 

Mal grinned internally, feeling Liam's own satisfaction at her remark, and, maintaining her effortless devil-may-care façade she continued, “And I don’t know about you do-gooders, too afraid to step a toe out of line in case you hurt something, but I don’t take orders from furniture. You may need something from me – but as far as I’ve seen, the only thing you can actually do is ask me – and even then, I don’t have to do it. I’m here at the _request_ of your future King. I didn’t have to come but I’m here as a courtesy. I don’t have to do anything for you.”

 

\---

 

Evie clung tightly to Mal’s hand as they exited the hospital together, Carlos and Jay flanking them at either side, offering smarmy smiles to the staff. Mal hadn’t heard anything else; from Liam or the staff, but she knew that while he was pleased, the hospital staff were far less so. They almost  seemed frightened by what would happen now that she’d refused and Mal knew it had something to do with their precious Royals. There was no way the blue puff-ball had any true sway over them.

 

Evie shot a veiled glare at the Doctor as they passed him, subtly shifting closer to Mal. She'd been so furious at him for allowing that puffed up sugar plum into Mal's room to try and force her to be tested that any good will he'd fostered in Evie was wiped from the face of the earth. Huffing slightly at his cordial smile, Evie sniffed and squeezed Mal’s hand tightly. She held in her own huff of barely contained pain at the pressure of the blunette's nails. The Evil Queen had certainly been thorough in teaching her how to maintain them. It hurt, but she would bare it if holding onto her gave Evie some comfort.

 

Jay shuffled them all into the limo, smirking at Mal when he saw their joined hands, before he clambered in after them, ripping a piece of chocolate out of Carlos’ hand with a teasing look. ‘Too slow’ it said, though Carlos only shrugged him off.

 

“Well,” Evie sighed, relaxing in the quiet of the car as it pulled away from the hospital, “Here we go. Off to school.”

 

Mal raised a bottle of water in cheers, “Here’s to Hell.”

\--

 

Fairy Godmother sighed, slumping into her chair as the Queen Mother paced the width of her office.

 

“Your Majesty –”

 

“Not now.”

 

“It was at the request of the King, I could hardly refuse, and nothing truly happened, she knows –”

 

“It’s not you, it’s him…He keeps making these requests…he’s been so angry recently – so very…unlike himself. More like –”

 

“The Beast.”

 

“Yes.

 

Belle sat down before the Fairy Godmother, her eyes tired but burning with a passionate ferocity that Fairy Godmother had only seen on several rare occasions; the last few all revolving around her son.

 

She curled her hand into a fist around the locket around her neck and leaned back into the chair with a quiet huff of annoyance. She knew very well what his actions were about. And she knew very well how things would end if he continued down this road.

 

“…How was Mal?”

 

Fairy Godmother smiled at her Queen’s gentle hesitance.

 

“As knowledgeable and stubborn as can be expected. Rather insulting as well, it seems, though only to those that seem to threaten her. Honestly I was so focused on trying to be convincing I may have come across as a bit of a sun-spot. The girl’s so pale – it’s not a wonder she felt threatened,” She laughed, Belle chuckling softly as well.

 

“It’s been so long since…”

 

“Yes,” Fairy Godmother agreed, understanding instantly, “It’s been very long – too long.”

 

“And…you sensed it?”

 

Fairy Godmother hummed, thinking back to the presence she’d felt in Mal’s room, hovering around her like a thick mist – heavy and obscuring. She’d probed it gently with the barest hint of magic and felt it flare up in a blanket of thick rage, before Mal had promptly refuted her request for testing.

 

“I sensed it,” She agreed, “She’s being protected, as you suspected…”

 

Belle heaved a sigh of relief, deflating, tension she hadn’t even realised was there slowly uncoiling from within her. She had hoped – but one could never be sure…The relief she felt was monumental, though she knew as it sunk in what this truth meant, that the fear would set in soon after. Yes, she was safe – but not for long.

 

Fairy Godmother seemed to sense her thoughts, her smile tainted with sadness as she too leaned back in her seat, “I know it’s hard to face…but it would seem you were right, all those years ago. She’s the One.”

 

There was a muffled knock on the office door and Fairy Godmother rose with a flourish, her sadness forgotten as she called for the person to come in. Doug, Dopey’s son, the Head of the children’s Welcoming Committee wandered in with a shy shuffle of his feet, bowing quickly to the Queen when he saw her.

 

“Sorry to disturb you, Headmistress,” he flustered, “But the Villain –”

 

He stopped short at the looks on their faces, quietly apologising as he pondered what to say.

 

A thought came to him immediately and he brightened as he rectified his mistake with a flourish,

 

“Their car’s arrived. The _Descendants_ are here.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long...like over a year...I probably won't be updating any more recently than maybe a few times every few months - I've got major exams that determine not only if I actually go to college but also my college education itself and stuff coming up soon and I am trying to make a better effort in studying and stuff so - super busy. But I'll try :)
> 
> Let me know what you think, I feel like it got kind of choppy and some perspective and comments would be welcomed :)


	4. The Mal-adjusted Maiden Mallory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mal and the VKs are at Auradon Prep and have it out with FG. Plans are made. Some conflict is hinted at. Plot will soon develop :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Been a while, but what can I say? Life happens :) Been working out some kinks and I finally have a fairly good idea of plot, direction and the content of the next couple of chapters, so expect some progress in this thing. Don't expect an update over the next two weeks (sorry - but hey, you never know, I might do something but like absolutely no promises) as my exam results are coming out on the 16th and then I will be finding out if any college is actually offering me a place over the next two weeks after that. If so (please let it be so) I will be starting college in September so I probably won't be updating very frequently.

\---

Mal ground her teeth as the perky princess of Auroria flounced around in front of them, her arm looped through her pretentious Prince’s, a plastic soulless smile pasted on her face and a lifelessness to her eyes that would send shivers down Mal’s spine if she hadn’t seen that expression on Grimhilde’s face for as long as the woman had tried to lord over her.

They had been at the school less than thirty minutes and Mal already wanted to cave in her own skull.

First, Jay and Carlos had fallen out of the limo in a flail of limbs less than befitting of the dangerous, deadly aesthetic Mal was trying to display. Then the brunette bobble-head had latched herself onto the Prince like a limpet and announced herself to be the daughter of Mal and her Mother’s sworn enemy. Mal had barely restrained herself from spitting something venomous at the girl, reigned in only by Evie’s firm tug to the back of her belt which forced her solidly against the blunette’s side.

If such grievances weren’t bad enough on their own, Princey-boy hadn’t stopped staring at her with all the fascination of one of the Isle kids finding food that wasn’t rotten.

The look in his eyes had thoroughly creeped Mal out, to the point where her eyes began to glow and her wrist began to pulse, startling everyone but Evie who only slipped her hand under the back of Mal’s jacket to press against her back, grounding her near instantly. But Mal wasn’t stupid, the gesture was just as much for Evie as it was for her; the girl’s glares were furious and pointedly aimed at Ben.

Something about that guy wasn’t right and it was setting them all off. Like for all of his seemingly good intentions, there was a twisted ulterior motive that she couldn’t see. Like a beast lurked beneath the surface of his skin.

Perhaps Auradon was more like the Isle than she’d thought.

Now though, they were wandering behind his Highness and his side-piece, listening to the grand history of Auradon Prep as they were led down the halls towards the Headmistress’ office.

Mal’s eyes wandered, Ben’s voice a drone in the back of her mind as she took in the curious and frightened stares of the students still loitering in the halls. They were late for class, Ben had mentioned casually, suggesting they all had a good reason for it though Mal knew differently – these people had stayed to watch them come in, to catch the first glimpse of the “Villain Kids” that had come to infiltrate their country. They had stayed to see them, to be able to point them out to their friends, to make their little observations and opinions a part of the next round of rumours to float around the school.

Mal locked eyes with a group of girls dressed in uniforms – her cheerleading squad, Audrey boasted proudly – and took pleasure in the way their faces paled at her stare. One girl even stumbled back, the others rushing to stop her flying over the railing she backed into.

“M,” Evie nudged her side, “quit it.”

“Why? We’re not here to make friends – we’re here for the wand,” Mal reminded her.

Evie nudged her again, glancing their fingers off each other where their hands swung at their sides.

“What if we need friends to help find the wand? We’re new…Auradon’s a big place, it could be anywhere,” Evie proposed, though both of them knew it was a weak argument. They were children of the Isle, if there was one thing they knew it was how to adapt and survive.

Evie knocked their fingers together again, shyer this time, and Mal caught them between her own for a moment, enjoying the tingle that shot up her arm before she dropped them.

It wasn’t hard to see the real reason Evie proposed such weakness; friends were an attachment, a tie not easily severed. To want friends… was to want to belong to something – some _where_. The only problem was that that wasn’t the plan. The plan was to get the wand, to make her mother proud – to make her see Mal as more than just a punching bag, as more than just weak, as more than just _human_ like her father. Getting the wand – it would make them all equal, better, _stronger_. It would make their parents appreciate them. See value in them. In _all_ of them.

But, something nagged at her, would getting the wand really change anything? Make anything better?  They were in Auradon – separated from their parents by a shattered bridge, a barrier and miles of land and sea. They were _safe_.

And that was the only thing that getting the wand would really change, wasn’t it?

The group slowed to a stop outside a huge mahogany door and Mal shook the thought away, squeezing Evie’s hand in her own, as she whispered, “We’re from the Isle, Eves, we don’t need anything but ourselves.”

Ben knocked on the door, opening it upon hearing an immediate response and Mal tried to ignore the ache she felt at Evie’s disappointed sigh, her saddened “Of course, M,” cutting into her chest like a jagged knife.

She was doing this for all of them. It was what was best. What was _evil._

They were rotten to the core, and they could never be more than that.

\---

In a way, finding out that Fairy Flutter Nutter was the Headmistress was no surprise. Disappointing, yes, but not surprising. After all, she was _literally_ known for enforcing curfews and making vegetable get-away vehicles and nothing else. And for all of her mystical power; she was more mortal than Fae – her wand being the source of almost all her power.

All the same, powerless or not, Mal couldn’t seem to help the way she tensed up at the sight of the blue marshmallow perched behind her desk, her spine straightening, her shoulders pulling back and a thick cloud of anticipation swelling before her.

Evie kept close to her side despite the disappointment Mal knew still clung to her like a second skin; Jay to Mal’s left and Carlos perched on Evie’s right, both boys quiet, observing the setting as they picked up on the atmosphere. Prince Ben barely hesitated at the door, a sappy smile seeping across his face as Audrey tugged him away with a giggle, quietly assuring him that they were Villains and made of sterner stuff, well able to take care of themselves. She wasn’t _wrong_ but Mal let herself be offended anyway.

It was the principle of the thing.

Fairy Godmother cleared her throat so loudly Mal thought she might hack a loogie, and adjusted the already pristine piles of paper on her desk to be the slightest bit straighter.

“Children, it’s a delight to see you here, at last. Now, I know I met some of you,” she stared pointedly at Mal, “but I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting the rest of you. Won’t you introduce yourselves?”

Mal truly didn’t see the point. There were four of them and Ben had personally selected them from the Isle. It wasn’t _that_ hard to guess who was who, especially when you considered the way they dressed.

Jay crossed his arms, shiftily, and Mal rolled her eyes at the slight bulge in his vest that hadn’t been there a minute ago. Carlos kicked the ground in front of him, a subtle diversion and introduced himself skittishly. Fairy Godmother’s eyes softened at how nervous he seemed, Carlos casting a smug look at them when the old bat wasn’t looking.

“Jay – Son of Jafar,” Jay proffered loftily, swaying slightly towards Mal who only watched, amused, as he stuffed something into his opposite pocket while Fairy Godmother was busy cataloguing his movement.

“Evelyn Grimhilde,” Evie preened, “the Evil Queen’s daughter.”

Evie met the woman’s eyes with a calculating look, quickly coming to the same assumptions Mal had already made about the woman’s power. She cast a glance around the room, noting that for all its grandeur there weren’t many places a wand could be hidden that it wouldn’t be sensed. Magical items like her mirror radiated simple power and the wand was so much stronger than that. It wasn’t here.

Fairy Godmother nodded quickly, “And we’ve already met of course, Mal.”

“Obviously.”

“Right – well… there are some things to go over, rules and such, but there are quite a few and with stipulations so we here at Auradon Prep, took the liberty of writing them down in a sort of guidebook. This guidebook will also include your class schedule, locker and dorm numbers and a school map and list of electives and clubs, in case you want to join something. They’re not mandatory – hence the _elect_ in electives, but they’re there,” She giggled brightly before her expression became more subdued.

“Your things will be waiting in your dorm rooms as well as your guidebooks and copies of your keys… But that’s not really the main focus of this little pow-wow,” She informed them coolly, gesturing to the chairs behind them.

There were only two of them – probably meant for any parents that might come into her office, plush and pristine with delicate edging on the silk cushions and fragile embroidery depicting La Téne art; gentle winding leaves and floral patterns curled across the fabric.

Mal made a gesture with her hand and immediately Carlos slumped into one chair while Evie commandeered the other, settling herself delicately with all the poise of a princess. Jay stood guardedly next to Mal, unwillingly to move and show favouritism or weakness while Mal seated herself on the arm of Evie’s chair, lining her hip to bump against Evie’s shoulder as she casually draped her arm across the back.

Fairy Godmother sat silently before them, her eyes wide as it seemed she came to understand just how close they were – a well-oiled, finely tuned machine. It was unlike what they’d presented when Jay and Carlos tumbled out of the limousine and Mal felt something in herself relax as she realised how their mistake had turned to their advantage. Those that had witnessed their arrival only saw them scrambling – they had no idea how truly dangerous they were.

The purplette made another gesture, clearing her throat slightly and watching, bemused, as Fairy Godmother startled, nodding her own head and again adjusting her papers.

“Yes…I’m sure you know of Prince Ben’s proclamation. He intends to bring the Children of the Isle to Auradon – to this school and several others. However, for all of his well-meaning intentions, the general populace is more wary of his proclamation. That is to say –”

“They don’t trust the children their King forced to be raised in a prison colony,” Evie interpreted curtly.

Fairy Godmother almost seemed like she’d try to deny it, though much to Mal’s intrigue she merely inclined her head in begrudging agreement.

“To rectify this…it has been arranged for you four to act as liaisons…representatives of your people, if you will. During your time here in Auradon, you will pay visits to the sovereigns of different parts of Auradon. You will spend time in their kingdoms with their leaders and it will be up to you to assure these Royals that Ben’s proclamation is good and just.”

Carlos swayed more into Evie’s side, subtly confused even as Jay openly asked, “Why do we have to meet with Royals? All of our parents _fought_ Royals…”

Carlos hummed indignantly.

“Except Carlos’ then. But why should we go see them? They’ll just be prejudiced against us.”

“Now, Jay, there's a reason for this. The Royals - even if they're not the Royals of  _Auradon_ , are still the heads of their kingdoms.  _They_  are the ones who influence their people - who will ultimately sway the will of the public for or against Ben's proclamation,” The Blue Bon-Bon disagreed, “But I assure you, there’s no reason for them to be prejudiced against you – and they aren’t. We Auradonians aren’t like that.”

Evie hummed softly to mask the unlady like snort she so wanted to make and leaned back into Mal’s arm as she crossed her legs.

“Mhm, okay, yeah, no – see us? We’re from _the_ _Isle_. Do you people just honestly gloss over the fact that it’s a _prison colony_ or do you really just not get it? How much more prejudiced could you be than forbidding children asylum just because they were born in the prison you banished them to?”

A surge of pride bubbled in Mal’s chest at Evie’s eloquent retort, expanding and blossoming as Fairy Godmother’s face dropped and any reply she might’ve made was cut dead in its tracks. She squeezed her shoulder discretely, Evie leaning into her slightly more in response.

She wanted to stay there for a moment and relish in it, the warmth that flooded her in Evie’s company, but a quick glance at Jay jolted her back to reality. They didn’t have time for fluffy feelings. They couldn’t feel them – they were a distraction. They could only be evil – they _had_ to be evil.

What would they be without it?

Good had never been there for them – never been an option. Evil was. Evil was what made them strong, what made them survive, what gave them _power_. And Evil didn’t _have_ fluffy feelings – Evil _destroyed_ them.

“Look – it’s obvious we don’t have much choice in this, so there’s not much point in saying no. But we’re not some stupid show-pony you can tout around to your beloved Council; we’re people – no matter how much you all love to forget it.”

Mal rose from her perch, gesturing for Evie and Carlos to do the same as Jay made his way towards the younger boy.

“It’s been a… _trying_ day,” Mal informed her, “I think we’ll go find our dorms.”

They left, quick and sure-footed, a unit, before Fairy Godmother could even open her mouth.

\---

They congregated in Jay and Carlos’ room, Mal eager to escape the bright pink of her and Evie’s own room; far more pleased by the neutral and dark tones of the boys’ dorm.

Jay was busy unloading his stolen cargo from the various pockets and hidden compartments of his outfit and Mal rifled through his loot, disinterestedly, poking at the books he’d pinched from Fairy Godmother’s office and sneering at the abundance of jewellery and tech. She almost said something to him, certain that he didn’t understand that signet rings were something people _would_ notice was missing, but he seemed much too pleased with himself for her to ruin it.

Carlos cheered raucously from his stance in front of the television, playing a video game and Evie sat a ways behind him on his bed, studiously reapplying her makeup though Mal hardly thought she needed it.

She clapped her hands together, gathering their attention and motioned to the blunette, “Evie, mirror me.”

Evie looked at her confusedly for a moment before realisation dawned and she strode over, sitting at the table in the middle of the room as Mal loomed over the back of her chair.

“I need a rhyme,” The brown-eyed girl declared quietly, humming under her breath as Jay looked at them curiously, Carlos still too entranced in the violence onscreen to care.

“Well, how did all the ones your mom did go?”

“Magic mirror on the wall, blah, blah, blah…but it’s different now – it’s smaller…and in my hand… Hmm,” Evie’s brow scrunched in thought and Mal studiously glanced away to make sure nothing in her expression shifted to betray how cute it was.

“Hand, stand, band, canned, banned,” Jay chimed in from behind them, “Spammed, hammed, jammed, land.”

“Jay, you know not all of those rhyme, right?” Carlos muttered.

“Well yeah – but isn’t rhyming just about how you pronounce it?”

“Interesting but not the point,” Evie hummed again, her expression calming as the rhyme clicked in her mind. She cleared her throat, muttering to herself, “I got this,” and then shrugged the tension from her shoulders, “Magic mirror in my hand, show me Fairy Godmother’s wand in this land.”

 The mirror, previously only reflecting Evie’s face, shimmered – the image rippling like gentle lapping waves before a close-up of the wand appeared. Evie hooted in victory and Mal smiled proudly, Carlos glancing over with a small smile of his own as Jay wandered towards them with a laptop.

“Magic mirror, not so close…closer….closer...” The image zoomed out to a wide view of earth, slowly making its way back in until finally a building with a huge sign outside appeared; “Mal, look…The Museum of Cultural History.”

Carlos scrambled over from his video game, passing the controls to Jay as he cracked open the laptop and began typing. It seemed like minutes passed before he turned the screen towards the girls with a flourish.

“It’s not far from here,” He told them, gesturing to the map and the highlighted pathway on the screen. “Are we going now?”

Mal shook her head. It would be impressive, she knew, to get the wand within a day of arriving at the school – but they’d already been in Auradon for more than two weeks and seen barely anything except the school and the hospital. They didn’t really know where they were, or how to get back to the Isle. And presuming they avoided whatever security measures were undoubtedly in place for the wand, they had no means of transport or breaking the barrier. They would be caught before they could make it anywhere _near_ the Isle.

No, this would take more time and finesse.

“We need time…Currently, we don’t have much to go on and we’d be caught and chucked back to the Isle wandless before we could say ‘Mother Gothel’. They’re going to be watching us and we’ve got to be careful, let them get comfortable with us, let them think they know us, can _trust_ us. Then… when they let their guard down...”

“We strike,” Evie agreed, though Mal could see the hint of reluctance in her expression.

Evie liked it here already. She adored their princess-like room, the friendly people and the opportunities Auradon presented. She liked being away from her mother, free to do her own thing even if there were moments where she struggled to truly escape her mother’s grasp. Evie didn’t _want_ to go back to the Isle and she certainly didn’t want other people from the Isle to _leave_ it.

Carlos looked at Mal with the same gleam of reluctance and disappointment in his eyes and Mal turned away, staring straight at the dark wood of the table to avoid it.

For all his fear of dogs, he certainly resembled one when he wanted to.

“Mal...,” he broached, “Fairy Godmother said we’re like liaisons…if we do this…what about the other kids on the Isle? If we do this they won’t have a chance here.”

“Carlos,” Mal breathed, reeling from the exhaustion she felt settling in her bones, “If we do this – there won’t _be_ an Isle. Not for us, just for _them.”_

“You hope.”

“I _know_.”

“But you don’t,” he barked.

Mal felt her eyes spark, magic pulsing through her veins as she glared at him. Normally he would back down, quickly and remorsefully, but he met her gaze coldly for perhaps the first time ever.

“Mal – we’re _safe_ here. We have a chance, and we can help other kids from the Isle have a chance too. Why do you want to ruin that?”

She opened her mouth to tear him a new one, stopped only by Evie who rose from her seat and stood between them. The brown eyed girl rested her hand on Mal’s shoulder, shushing her and rubbing her thumb in circles until the unnatural brightness of her eyes dimmed – leaving her even more tired than before. She stared at Carlos, quietly urging him into submission as she inclined her head to the games console and a silent Jay.

 “I think we’re all a bit more tired than we’ve let on,” she said diplomatically, gathering her things and herding them into Mal’s arms as she gently guided her to the door. The purplette could only submit to her whims, too tired to argue.

“Mal, especially, she’s still recovering – getting stronger everyday,” she added quickly at the disgruntled look the Fae gave her, “And we should take some time apart. We _have_ been stuck together for two weeks in a hospital. Now, big day tomorrow – so everybody better be prepared and ready bright and early. We can hash all the details of whatever plan we decide on out later.”

With that, she nodded curtly and hustled them out the door, down the hallways and into their own room.

Evie kindly took her things from Mal’s limp arms and set them in their proper places, watching as Mal robotically got changed and quickly doing the same.

The purplette climbed under the girly covers of her bed, resolving to do something about the utter disgrace that was her side of the room when she had energy and time the next day.

She looked to Evie, finding her mirroring her position and smiled at her sleepily.

“E,” she murmured into her pillow, blearily noting Evie’s own quiet grin.

“I know, Mal,” the girl muttered kindly, as Mal’s face went slack, the blunette cuddling into her own pillow as the light sound of snoring started, ”Love you too.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think :)

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know your thoughts, my dears.


End file.
